The date, according to the website, is November 23rd 2012 and there is only enough water in Bourke for another two weeks. (Does no one else think it strange that despite this dire water situation she is pictured constantly around large rivers, and that many of her “vlogs” take place either in the pool or straight after a swimming session?)

Oh, and it gets better (or worse?)! If you, like actress Kate Bell, have decided being in 2008 is too much of a drag you can teleport yourself into the future and create your own fabricated video contribution.

Oh! Oh! Oh! But wait, there’s still more!

After you’ve produced free content for Channel Nine, uploaded it to their site and given them permission to do whatever the hell they like with it - you can buy it back from them in DVD format! Its more inspired than selling coal to Newcastle, surely?

Sadly after subscribing to me (and many others) last month, it doesn’t appear she will be hanging out in YouTube land much either. [Damn, I needed those extra views!]

But relax, you won’t find her at VloggerHeads - in case you were wondering…

Now his story will hopefully get a broader audience when it is retold on ABC’s Australian Story. The episode will go to air in Australia on Monday 25th August at 8pm on ABC1.

There are no plans at this stage for the episode to be shown internationally, however it will be available to stream online from the show’s website.

I have known Dan (DrLemur) and his sister Heidi (Heidiscope) for some time now, and am delighted to call them both friends. I am sure they would both appreciate your support.

“As blocked artists, we tend to criticize ourselves mercilessly. Even if we look like functioning artists to the world, we feel we never do enough and what we do isn’t right. We are victims of our own internalized perfectionist, a nasty internal and eternal critic, the Censor, who resides in our (left) brain and keeps up a constant stream of subversive remarks that are often disguised as the truth.”

I confess for all the things I produce - blog posts, videos, articles - for each one that sees the light of day there are scores that do not. Some don’t even get past the status of ‘idea.’ I confess also that I hadn’t really thought about how much I criticised myself until I found a way to put that criticism on the backburner.

I had been working on the JohnOfJordan website for months without making much progress. It shouldn’t have required that much effort. It was only set up as a way to bring my videos together with some other information and resources. The truth is I became bogged down in doubts. It was only after I stopped asking myself constantly “Is this good enough?” that I was able to achieve anything at all.

I care about the production values of things I produce, I want to maintain a high quality of work, but being critical doesn’t help realise this goal. Rather it just stops me from producing anything at all. Weeks go by without a single video being produced, despite a library of new and archival material. Blog posts remain “drafts” indefinitely. Some of my best ideas end up on a dusty “to do” (maybe one day) list.

I don’t want to do that any more.

Don’t get me wrong, I believe there is a place for revision and editing. I believe there is a time and place for scrunity. But it isn’t at the beginning of a creative process.

Some time ago I added the Pokey! application to Facebook and became the proud owner of an adorable, if virtual, male black lab puppy. I named him Dennis.

I feed and play with him at least twice a day. He’s very cute. The animators of Pokey! have done a brilliant job bringing the puppies to life. As much as I long for a (real) puppy of my own, my living arrangements currently do not allow for this, so Dennis is the next best thing.

Some of my friends have Pokey! puppies of their own and I’ve started something of an impromptu Puppy Play group. In addition to Dennis, there’s Bono, Cocoa, Pokey and Pigg-Dog.

There’s something really nice about watching the puppies jump up and run around as they react to your actions. I realise, intellectually, that the dog’s ability to catch the frisbee (for example) is ruled by a random number generator - but it makes me happy to believe that positive reinforcement helps. And it is weirdly satisfying when a puppy finally catches the frisbee. Its cute too, since the frisbees are actually larger than the puppies’ heads.

John: Oh well I better let you get back to it.
Person x: Oh, but I don’t want to abandon you.
John: You’re not abandoning me. Besides I have stuff to do.
Person x: Really? Or is that just one of those things people say?
John: Does it matter? [You're going to take the other call anyway, I am just trying to be polite.]

Scenario 2
Person y explains that he has great emotional intimacy with his best friend; I won’t bother to use the actual terminology used in the conversation because I think it will add an additional level of confusion.

John: I’ve been up for hours and I haven’t had anything to eat.
Person y: You side-stepped that quickly?
John: Side-stepped what?
Person y: That I have such a great relationship with my best friend.
John: Oh, well I didn’t really have anything much to add. [Really, are you trying to bait me? You have a great friend. You have a better relationship with that person than you do with me, even though as far as I am concerned you're my closest friend in the world. Yeah. Forgive me if I bite my tongue rather than reveal how hurt and insignificant I feel right now.]

Really what the hell do you people want from me?

EDIT: In both instances I didn’t have a problem with what had happened, indeed in both circumstances I expected it. What I had a problem with were the responses that were being elicited from me.

The truth is I reached a point where I had to make a decision. Whether I was going to choose somebody who had no interest in me, or whether I was going to choose myself. This morning I chose myself. This morning I decided I am all I have and if I can’t have the faith to invest in myself, what could I possibly have?

This morning it felt incredibly liberating, this line in the sand I have drawn. But later in the day it started to feel scary. The truth is I know I have made the right decision. I realise I have made the only decision I could make. And in a funny way for the first time in a long time I feel like I’m going to be okay.

Tomorrow I will pick up the pieces of my life and move on. Today, however, I intend to mourn a little, say goodbye to ideas in my head, and sleep a lot. It’ll be okay. Is it strange that I want to go listen to Joan Baez singing “We Shall Overcome” at this junction?

It would be easy enough to just walk away from YouTube at this point, except that is something I don’t want to do. If I thought I could, I would’ve done it by now and I wouldn’t feel so conflicted.

When I signed up for YouTube it was as if I had joined a Clown academy. There were infinitely funny clowns, staging elaborate stunts with props. And then there was me - the sad clown - sitting in the corner attempting to mime out little observations about life. As much as I like to think there is value for what I do, I realise I am but a blip on the radar. Not that that should matter. It doesn’t matter. The truth is I just don’t feel worthy. I don’t feel worthy of YouTube. I feel like a fraud. And I shouldn’t. I’ve been here for a long time. I have achieved things. I have talents. I have creativity. I hope. lol

If I can convince myself to once more face up to the camera - and I’m going to try! - there will be a lot of changes to the format of The JohnOfJordan Channel. I want to call in some favours, too. It should be magical.

World Youth Day: They came, they saw, they trashed Randwick race course. I was secretly relieved that I was struck down by illness so I wouldn’t have to venture up to Sydney. I guess on the one hand I totally got that they were there to celebrate their religious convictions. I totally get there is great affection for the latest Pope. What I don’t get is… why? And that isn’t even a criticism of Ratzinger himself, more a general wondering about what makes the pope so important within the realm of Catholicism to begin with. I don’t feel like I’m being flippant, either. What makes any singular person any more divine than any other? There is a wonderful presumption that Priests are particularly divine though surely there is enough anecdotal evidence to acknowledge their own individual and collective shortcomings?

I recently saw The X-Files: I Want To Believe. At one point there is an exchange between Dana Scully (Gillian Anderson) and Father Joseph (Billy Connolly). Scully asks Father Joseph if he thinks God hears his prayers. Father Joseph quips back, “Do you think he hears yours?” At this point Scully offers flatly that she (unlike Father Joseph) didn’t sodomize twenty-something altar boys.

Elsewhere, some Anglicans are up in arms. Well, actually, I think most Anglicans are up in arms; it is more a question of which quarter of opinion they fall into. Gay Priests. Female Bishops. Lions and Tigers and bears - oh my!

I suppose I’ve come to two basic conclusions.

Discrimination seeks legitimacy from religion and this is not appropriate. I was particularly disappointed to see the introduction of new laws for the benefit of World Youth Day that meant that those ‘annoying’ WYD delegates could be arrested. I severely doubt the laws would be available to more secular events such as Mardi gras. Which is disappointing because I have to say Cardinal Pell’s routine protests at that particular event are really fucking annoying!

Furthermore, Organised Religion is ‘Organised’ for a reason and whatever that reason is, it seems doubtful it is about cultivating personal freedom or improving your relationship with your creator. I wonder if The Church (indeed, any church) might actually impair the potential for a relationship between you and your creator. I doubt, for example, that, if permitted by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Gay Priests or Women Bishops will be seen any differently than they were previously by God himself. No, rather, they will just have made themselves accountable to an entirely worldly figure who had spent the better part of their lives treating them like second class citizens.

We are able to freely acknowledge that historically people were controlled through militant force and religious influence; why is it so hard to acknowledge now the power we surrender to mere mortals and the potential for that power to be misused and abused?

In response to The Joy of Shame, Daniel wrote:

It’s not just ‘extremist’ churches that focus on guilt and shame. I’m not positive on this, but I think that John (like me) was raised by run-of-the-mill moderate evangelical Australian Protestants. The fact is that Christianity is centred around the doctrine of salvation, which all seems very positive until you stop to ask, “salvation from what?” Sin and damnation is the other side of the coin - you can’t have one without another, and you can’t help but be concerned with both no matter which of the two aspects your church chooses to focus on more in expressing it.

I suggest to you, today, that perhaps we are not ourselves sinful. That our creator need not want us to feel ashamed, or shameful. That the rhetoric of shame and sin is an entirely worldly construct. Born, primarily, to aid in controlling people. That the hierarchy is set up not as an exercise in support though rather in influence and control. But mostly I would suggest to those wanting to infiltrate the inner workings of either the Catholic or Anglican churches simply - be careful what you wish for, you might just get it. It might feel ostensibly like ‘acceptance,’ though it might actually be little more than a surrender of control. You may have just made yourself part of the machine.

I realise there will be those among you who will at this point cite the bible as assurance that, ‘no, John, there is really sin!’ The bible is what we politely call, in paranormal circles, ‘inspired literature.’ And I really feel as though if I am going to accept one ‘inspired’ text at face value it is only fair to accept all ‘inspired’ texts in this fashion, including - er - those faithful reworkings of history and the bible itself. What separates some books dictated by strange supernatural powers as being ‘crazy’ and others being ‘religious’ is surely a dilemma worthy of further consideration, too.

Well today was the first time in about a week that I felt well enough to leave the house for any extended period of time. I had been shot down by a particularly potent strain of the flu. It was exciting to be able to breathe deeply again. It is amazing, too, how you can take that ability for granted up until it isn’t present.

I ventured out and had breakfast, followed closely by a mocha and did some window shopping. There was a big “ONE DAY SALE” at the local shopping centre, although, frankly, I didn’t notice much difference between that day and any other. Indeed the prices weren’t any cheaper! The one thing they did have, however, were balloons. Lots and lots of helium balloons for children. I’ve noticed this trend everywhere. Is the price of helium coming down, or do promoters just lack imagination when it comes to merchandise for children?

I eventually bought a shirt. I was eyeing off a beautiful leather jacket, I tried it on - it fit like a dream. Unfortunately the big “Reduced to $23.95″ sign lingering above the jackets was there in error. One woman managed to get the jacket at the price although after hearing the conversation I didn’t feel like it was worth the argument. Or the $69.99 price tag…

I decided to return home at this point and was startled to discover two police men peering into windows of the property across from my own home. They circled the house, eventually gained access. An ambulance appeared and before long somebody was brought out on a stretcher. A strange, surreal thing to witness.

After lunch I ventured out of the house once more (yeah, twice in the one day - that’s unheard of!) and visited a little something called “Shoalhaven On Show.” Essentially it was little more than an open day for local businesses to promote their wares and services (mostly for the benefit of other businesses.) I was impressed by how much they managed to packed into the newly constructed Shoalhaven Entertainment Centre although, frankly, there were moments when I felt really claustrophobic. A woman was handing out samples of flavoured milk, while standing next to someone in a cow costume. The next thing I knew I felt a tug on my grey shirt and I looked down and a fearful girl was clutching on for dear life. I’m not sure if she didn’t realise she wasn’t clinging to her father or if it was enough to know I wasn’t the cow standing on two feet. I was wondering what the hell to do when suddenly a voice from somewhere behind me said, “Wrong Daddy!” She released me and I continued on with my business.

I was largely unimpressed with the open day and proceeded on to a near by park. I sat there for some time watching the geese and ducks. One goose in particularly was trying to sleep on the bank of the dam not far from my feet, and I could see it always had one eye on me even though its head was sort of tucked in against its body. I strolled around the park a few times. It was nice.

Eventually I returned to my most familiar haunt; beside the Shoalhaven River. Some people were fishing on the wharf. One of them removed his shoes and socks and seemed to disappear underneath the boat shed, which lingers over the water. I couldn’t work out exactly what he was doing down there but I presume he had his reasons.

I proceeded to a park bench and returned to John A. Keel’s Jadoo, something I hadn’t seen for at least as long as I had been ill. It felt nice. The sun felt nice on my skin. Keel’s adventures had me sitting on the edge of my seat - well, bench - especially when he was describing an incident where he took on a cobra and lost. It is funny, intellectually you have to know he survived the encounter to have written the book but in the moment I was as scared as I imagine he was. Mr. Keel has a regular talent for pushing the boundaries, for taking risks few others would. He has outlived most of his colleagues in the realm of the paranormal - an industry where authors don’t seem to live very long. I got the impression that this might have more to do with his earlier experiences in Asia, The Middle East and Egypt; many lessons had been learnt that have apparent implications for his later work. Indeed the cobra incident was a great example of the perils of believing everything you’re told. And having his picture in The Times of India made him very famous, and made it very hard for him to get on with his own work. This surely inspired his later practice of denying all media interviews during his investigations.

Periodically I’d look up from my book to notice birds on the water, dogs sniffing around or being led by their owners. At one point I looked up and saw two people riding horses just behind where I was reading. And I thought to myself, “What a wonderful world!” This had been such an unusual day, what with people dressed as cows, random children instantly adopting me as one of their own, ambulances and police cars. It all seemed very surreal. But also very interesting. Oddly comforting. I felt like the world had a strange and beautiful sense of humour and I was so thankful to be out in the world again, rather than at home suffering.

When the wind began to chill, I closed the book and started to walk back to my car. A pelican I had seen on my arrival had returned. It was swimming into a bright explosion of sunlight on the water. It would’ve made a beautiful photograph, I thought to myself. Well it would have if: a) I had my camera; and b) I found an exposure setting to do the scene justice. Photography had taught me so much about life. At first I was gripped with a desire to capture “the moment” - every moment, in fact. The moment was fleeting and life was transient. If you didn’t capture the moment it was gone and what would you have to show for it then? Digital photography technology made it possible to shoot more images in a shorter period of time and memory cards had plenty of storage capacity. It was possible to capture a lot - if not all - of those precious fleeting memories.

Though over time I had another realisation. It occurred to me that there would be other moments to capture if I missed one. Perhaps this isn’t true of everything. Perhaps it isn’t true of a baby’s first step or a couple’s first kiss as a married couple, but it is true for a number of other things. If you missed the sunset this afternoon you can have enough faith that there will be another one tomorrow. You come to realise that animals come back to places they feel safe and comfortable. If you didn’t capture them today, there will be other opportunities.

But more than that there is an opportunity to just stop being a photographer and experience that moment, by yourself, and for yourself. There is something nice in savouring a beautiful scene just for the benefit of your own enjoyment.

At any rate I have faith that I shall encounter that pelican - or other members of his family - again. There will be other times for photo sessions. And I look forward to those also.

So that, dear reader, was my day. I look forward to being able to get back to blogging (and other things) now that I am on the mend. Thanks for your support!

I am concerned that my life doesn’t amount to much. I acknowledge uneasily that I seem to have a revolving door of friends and acquaintances. I have been on this creative recovery for three weeks and I am becoming concerned that there might be nothing to ‘recover.’ Perhaps I am as boring as I always suspected. Wouldn’t that be something?

I just want one true friend. I just want some sense of purpose in my life. I want to feel like I’m here for a reason - and that I know what that reason is! Because right now I don’t want to befriend anyone, less they abandon me. I don’t seem to want to do anything but nurse old wounds. Wounds I have said a million times before were healing. Was I just lying to myself? It is difficult to know.

I have a sorrow I don’t know what to do with. I’ve tried pretending it doesn’t exist; I’ve tried surrendering to it entirely. I don’t want to sit around harbouring nostalgia for ‘better times’ but, still, I am. It is as if I knew less back then, but felt more, felt things that were real - things that were of substance. Things that were meaningful. That is what I crave mostly; meaning.

I took this time off in a hope to get to know myself better, but, frankly, I am now more confused than ever. I am more alone than ever. I am more direction-less than ever.

I don’t know what to do.